


Flashlight

by nomelon



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Bromance, Bromance to Romance, Dorks in Love, Episode Related, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Prison, Protective Jack, i love you man, no i love you more, oh what feeling is this, ro-bromance, romantic bomb building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomelon/pseuds/nomelon
Summary: Jack usually says what's on his mind. Mac usually kind of digs that about him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I was throwing bits of this fic together as I watched the eps, and I kept getting jossed, or they'd do things before I was quite ready for them to happen, and Jack kept basically admitting his undying love to Mac onscreen and greatly outdoing anything I was getting him to say, so I had to up my game... and I ended up just giving Mac and Jack a little quality time together. So most of this follows canon, but only just, and it veers off a little now and again, but that's not terribly important either. IN A NUTSHELL: Mac and Jack: got each other's backs, in a shack, no going back, ducks go quack, I want a snack.

Mac knows keeping secrets isn't good for him. At least, not in his very small circle of people who Need To Know. Otherwise he's pretty good with secrets: it goes with the job description. Just ask Bozer. Or, you could, but he doesn't know anything at all about Mac's secret double life, so it wouldn't get you very far. But colleagues slash friends are different. Mac is well aware of this, and he's going to tell Jack and Patricia about the passport and phone he found at Nikki's place, he is, and probably about the feelers he's put out online, and then maybe even the search program he has running... but he just wants a little time to think it all through, to maybe get a solid lead before he has to admit what he's been up to. Jack's going to have his back no matter what, but he's also moved on from the supportive colleague routine to the best friend calling him on his bullshit, which Mac appreciates but it means that sometimes he has to justify his actions and admit his mistakes, which, he knows deep down, is a good thing but, c'mon, who the hell enjoys a thing like that?

Mac is trying to get a little paperwork done: a little being a teetering stack of folders on his desk. He's not even sure why he still gets actual paper -- there was something in a seminar about the necessity of hardcopy backups to comply with certain guidelines -- but that stack always seems to be there, and Patricia is always sending him reminders that it needs signed off on, so here he is, being the good little boy scout and finally getting it done.

Jack, who never seems to have any office work of any description to do, has his feet up on Mac's desk and has been bouncing a little rubber ball off the wall for the past half an hour or so when he says, "So I was thinking."

"Always dangerous."

"Hardy har har. We should go out."

"This is so sudden."

"Buttmunch. We should go out and, y'know, drink, soak up the nightlife, get laid. Ooh, we could karaoke."

"You do know that karaoke isn't a verb, right? And did you just call me buttmunch?"

"I call it like I see it. No, but seriously. After our luck recently, it'd be good for us. Take our minds off things. Have a little goddamn fun. You could let down your beautiful golden hair. I happen to make an awesome wingman."

"You're a terrible wingman. Remember that time in Geneva?"

Jack pauses in throwing the ball. He takes a breath to speak and holds up a finger to make his point, then thinks better of it, shuts his mouth and retracts the finger. "Okay, I'll give you that one. But I don't speak German. How the hell was I to know?"

"She was Norwegian, and there are some things a man just knows."

"There are some things a man has to experience before he knows how to know them."

Mac checks a few more boxes, signs his name with a flourish, and slaps the last folder shut. "I'm off the market, and drinking with you in public is too dangerous."

"So let's drink in private! But you're never going to meet someone new with that attitude."

"I'm never going to meet someone new in any bar that you take me to, karaoke or otherwise." He strolls out of the office, sending Jack a little mock salute on the way.

"Hey, Mac," Jack calls after him, "at least we have each other, though, buddy, right? Right?"

Mac keeps on walking.

 

\---

 

Jack shows up that weekend with a huge bag of sushi and a six pack of Japanese beer.

Mac takes a beer and looks in a bag. "What no pizza?"

Jack pats his belly. "I'm on a cleanse."

Mac laughs right as he's taking a swig of beer and ends up snorting it up his nose.

Jack takes a drink of his beer with absolutely zero sympathy. "I need no excuse to eat sushi. I loves me some sushi."

Mac manages to stop choking enough to say, "There's enough here for six people."

"I loves me a _lot_ of sushi."

Mac makes room for it in the fridge. Sushi is pretty good.

Jack wanders into the living area. "Where's Bozer?"

"He's got a big meeting with a director."

"No shit?"

"No shit. Apparently the monster movie went viral. They want him to direct a music video."

"Huh. I was not expecting that. Good for him. Hope you're getting your cut for playing the ping pong ball monster. He planning a sequel? You might need a manager."

"Y'know, I think my fifteen minutes was enough."

Jack grins and polishes off his beer, waggling the empty bottle in Mac's general direction until Mac caves and goes to the fridge for more. "I've been meaning to ask you," Jack says, accepting his fresh beer.

"Go on."

"You know how we're in a secret government organisation, right?"

Mac narrows his eyes. "I was aware, yes."

"And how we're the best of the best, highly trained, know our elbows from our assholes and everything?"

"Yeeess."

"How in the name of the good lord above did Bozer get access to your laptop?"

Mac's ribs get a little tight. "Ah," he says.

"And that poor, sweet boy didn't even question your insane global stalking of a woman he thinks is dead. He just thought you were in a bad place and wanted to help. But do you have any idea how long and hard Riley wanted to lecture you about that one?"

"I can imagine."

"You really can't. I had to listen to that shit for _hours_. I mean, I act like I don't know damn-all about computers so one day I can surprise her."

"You're all about the long con."

"You know it. She thinks I can't work my email and I don't understand screensavers. But she _expects_ that kind of shit from me. When you did it, it drove her crazy. Like actual temporary insanity."

"So kind of like being on stakeout with you, then."

" _Hours_ , Angus. There was pacing and hair-pulling. Hers, not mine."

"Right."

"She raised a very valid point. The only reason you didn't hear all about it was because it was your intervention and we were being there for you and all that softly softly bullshit. You didn't even have to suffer Patty's face of doom. I thought she was going to pop a blood vessel, man."

"He sneaks in and takes it when I'm in the bathroom. We should recruit him. Dude's like a cat burglar."

"Uh huh." Jack swigs his beer. "Word is his honeypot needs a little work."

"I heard. Is Riley even giving him her real number?"

"I have no idea. She has about six phones. Who knows?"

Jack smiles at him, lazy and open, all white teeth and crinkles that nearly hide his eyes. Mac breaks eye contact. He wants to move, burn off a little energy. "Come on. Come shoot some hoops with me."

Jack plucks at his t-shirt. "I don't have any other clothes with me, man."

"You can borrow some of mine, _after_ you shower."

Jack follows him out back. "I smell good when I sweat, don't lie. Citrusy."

Mac is five points up and working on his shit-talking and his jump-shot when Jack screws up his good mood by bringing up Nikki _again_. Jack usually says what's on his mind. Mac usually kind of digs that about him, but Nikki is a hell of a sore spot. Jack's not actively trying to be an asshole, Mac knows that, but he's feeling guilty and isn't excessively fond of being told what to do over and over, so it's possible he overreacts ever so slightly.

"Jesus, Jack, I got it already." Mac leaps for the ball and body-checks Jack so hard they crash into the wall. Jack yelps and Mac backs off as soon as he has both feet on the ground. "Ah, shit. Sorry, sorry."

Jack grimaces and sucks in air over his teeth, an arm wrapped around his ribs. "So I'm thinking maybe the air isn't as clear as we thought."

"It's just... I heard you. I even made out with Katarina a little--"

"Ha! I knew it!"

"-- so I'd really appreciate it if you could just... let it be."

Jack looks at him for a long moment, then nods. "I would just like to point out that this is so not why I came here. This was to be brotherly bonding time and enjoying a beer, maybe watching a game."

"Come on. We're done here."

They pad through the apartment and Mac leads Jack to the bathroom. "Let me take a look."

Jack bats his hands away. "It's fine. I just got dinged on that last job. Barely a bruise."

"Uh huh. Take your shirt off."

Jack gives him a look but does it. He has to stop halfway, grimacing in pain. "Dude, I'm _fine_."

Mac rolls his eyes because this is a routine he knows well. Jack gets a cold or a papercut or stubs his toe, and he goes on about it for hours, days. A concussion, cracked ribs, stab wounds, and he's fine, could go all day, forget about it.

His skin is warm and just a little sweaty when Mac checks him over, firm over solid muscle, and yeah, okay, the guy smells like lemons after he works out. There's a fading bruise over his ribs that looks like it must have hurt like a bitch when it was fresh. Jack gets quiet as Mac works, until Mac presses lightly on the wrong spot and Jack hisses. Mac looks up and _oh_. Jack is holding himself perfectly still, looking anywhere but at Mac or his hands, his pupils wide and dark.

"Not a word."

"You're..."

"Mac."

"I had no idea." That's not strictly true. He'd sorta kinda wondered for a while but it hadn't really come up, and Jack's business was Jack's business, no harm no foul.

"Well, why would you."

"You're really..."

"It's not a thing, don't sweat it."

"But you're--"

"Yes, I am."

"And you're usually so--"

" _Mac_."

Mac holds up his hands in surrender. "Okay, backing off. I don't think we... I did any damage. Sorry, again." Jack waves it off, because that's what Jack does. Mac hands him a clean t-shirt from the always present stack of laundry on the chair just inside his bedroom door. He can live with a little lemon smell. "Although this kind of shines a new light on things."

"Turn off that little flashlight, brother, 'kay? Let's go watch some manly sports and eat raw fish."

Mac does as he's told because it's so much easier that way.

 

\---

 

He needs sleep. His head hurts and his hands are shaking -- an aftermath thing; they were steady as a rock while he was defusing bombs and saving lives. He should just get his ass in bed but he knows he won't sleep, so he's sitting on the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. His phone rings and makes him jump. The display shows Jack's name.

"Hey, buddy. You up?"

Mac glances at the clock. "It's three a.m."

"And you answered on the second ring."

"I was expecting a butt dial."

"My butt is delighted you picked up."

"Did you call me to talk about your butt?"

"No, I'm just..."

Mac sighs and leans back into the cushions, stretching against the click-click-click of his spine. 

"I don't know. You want to go get a beer?" Jack asks.

"It's still three a.m."

"Right, right."

"Having trouble sleeping?"

"I cleaned my entire apartment, rearranged my sock drawer, sharpened all my knives and did my tax returns."

"Adrenaline comedown is a bitch."

"I just... I don't know if I want to cry or start drinking or... I don't know. But I can't sleep, man. I haven't felt like this in... a while."

"I hear you."

"And I love you."

Mac opens his mouth but no sound comes out.

"I mean, thank you," Jack says. "And I love you. You saved me today. You really saved my ass. Nobody else could have... would have done that."

"Yeah. I mean, you're welcome. Of course. That's what we do."

"Yeah, but this was above and beyond. I should have known better than to get into that van. Stupid." There's a bang that may or may not be Jack kicking or throwing something. "I know better than that. I wasn't thinking."

"Hey, it's okay." Mac keeps his voice soft. "It wasn't your fault."

"But you guys... you all stayed with me, man." There's a hitch in his voice. "All of you, you crazy bastards. That thing would have taken out a city block, and you _knew_ that, but you all stayed."

"We're a team. We love you, too."

There's a pause. "Even Patricia?"

Mac considers it. "In her way. You know you're her favourite."

"Bullshit, I am."

"Look at how much she lets you get away with. The doghouse is just her way of showing she cares."

Another pause. "I do get off lightly, considering. But Riley hates me."

"Come on. That hasn't been true for a long time. You've grown on her. Like a rash."

This time he can hear a smile when Jack replies. "You always did know just what to say to make me feel better."

"I have the heart of a poet."

"And the hair of an angel. You sure you don't want to get a beer?"

"I'm sure. You want to watch infomercials?"

"Meh. Cat videos on youtube?"

"I saw a new one of a dog playing the piano and singing."

"The hell you say. Get your ass online."

 

\---

 

A bullet misses his face by a couple of inches. Mac backs into the corner, trying to make himself small, but it seems like the guys outside have an endless supply of ammo and Mac is starting to run out of wall to hide behind. Jack skids to a stop beside him, tucks himself into what's left of their cover, and thumps Mac in the chest with a backpack. Mac empties it out. There's a selection of household chemicals, some balloons, ballpoint pens, twist ties, duct tape, a plastic lighter and half a bottle of vodka. Jack's looking at him expectantly. They're filthy, exhausted, covered in plaster dust, bleeding and still being shot at, but Mac is suddenly so happy the grin hurts his face.

"Oh, man, I could kiss you right now." It's supposed to be funny, because that's Jack's line, but Mac shifts his weight because it's been on one leg for long enough that it's getting painful, and Jack looks freaked and jerks back a little, which is bad because bullets are flying, so Mac grabs at his arm to keep him in close.

"We can't." 

It should be just another in a long and varied career of bantering and snarking and faux-flirting, except the look on Jack's face says it's not. Mac opens his mouth to say that it's cool, that isn't what he was angling for and even he has better timing than when they're pinned down in the middle of a firefight, but there's that face, the face that Mac sees so rarely. The one he usually only catches glimpses of when they're in the field and something goes so fubar that bickering, wisecracking, larger than life Jack vanishes and things get real serious, real fast. 

It makes him want to know exactly why not. What Mac really wants to say is that Jack is a crazy motherfucker for managing to make this an issue right now, and for so many other reasons, but they're both well aware of that already.

"Because... because I'm a guy? Because I was pretty sure that wasn't an issue with you." He grabs the twist ties and the balloons.

Jack snorts with laughter, over before it's begun but all at Mac's expense. "You're so '92. Live in the now, would you? We call ask and we can tell. Well, Trump's in, so who knows how long that's going to last but..." He shakes his head. "Because... because you're the only one." Jack smiles but it's a little sad. Mac's heart thumps hard in his chest because _oh_. This is new, and apparently he's in far deeper than he thought. "You're the only one I trust."

Mac frowns because that isn't true. He knows it isn't. He lifts a bottle of bleach and the duct tape. He shakes the bottle. There isn't much left. He'll have to make it count.

Jack sees the confusion and shakes his head. "No, man. I mean, yes, but you're the only one I trust to stick with me no matter what. I can't lose that. I don't want to end up like the Russian Odd Couple and not see each other for twenty years because we're dumb enough to screw up what's really important. And this..." He gestures between them. "I don't have a great track record with sustaining this."

"But I do," Mac says, the words just falling right out of his mouth, no way for him to stuff them back in. "I mean, when no one's a lying, scheming double agent, yeah, I do. You're not a double agent, are you?"

"Not last time I checked." Jack tilts his head just a little. "Are we talking about the same thing here?"

Mac drops his gaze and shakes his head. "Don't know. Maybe. Could be."

"Huh. This is not how I saw today going." A bullet takes a chunk out of the wall by Jack's head and he ducks closer.

"Jack."

"No, I mean it. Talk about laying your cards on the table. Until half an hour ago, I wasn't even aware we had a table."

"Oh, you knew there was a table." He heats the metal cap of the vodka bottle with the lighter.

"A card table, maybe. Rickety little thing at best."

"No way. This was a solid table. Mahogany. Only used on-- Oh my god, can I drop the table metaphor, please?"

"Please do, but only if that bomb is ready to go."

Mac burns his finger testing that it'll hold together, but it's good to go. "It's ready."

"I love it when you build bombs."

Mac holds it out. "You want to do the honours?"

Jack looks so unexpectedly touched for a moment that Mac doesn't know what to do with it and his gaze drops down to Jack's lips.

"Oh my god, gimme that thing. Your sense of occasion is the worst, you know that? The worst."

Jack's throwing arm doesn't let them down and the bomb works like a charm. Battered and bruised, they walk out of the trashed building shoulder to shoulder, the flash drive full of state secrets tucked securely in Mac's back pocket. 

Patricia gets them on the first available flight out of the country. They have to share with a bunch of stony-faced marines who don't blink an eye at the dirt or the blood, but do offer medical supplies and surprisingly decent coffee. 

They don't talk about it.

The debrief when they land is mercifully brief, and going home for a long hot shower and stretching out in a lounger has never felt so good. There's a big old elephant in the room laughing at both of them, but somehow they don't split up and Jack ends up drinking Mac's beer in another lounger, aviators on, with his face tilted to the sun. 

Riley comes by to check on them, rolling her eyes and telling them that alcohol doesn't mix with painkillers. She makes them eat and helps herself to beer. Jack starts telling her the story about Geneva, waving his hands and remembering all the wrong details. Mac closes his eyes and tries not to listen but he can't help smiling. He falls asleep before Jack gets to the part about the cabaret show.

 

\---

 

"Two weeks off?" Mac raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

"You're on call if something big comes in so stay on the grid, but yes. After the last few months, you've more than earned it."

Jack raises a hand. "Does that mean all of us?"

Patricia lifts one side of her mouth in a small smile. "Yes, the whole team. Riley is to keep up with her combat training, though."

Riley shrugs. "I can dig it."

"Teacher's pet," Jack stage-whispers at her.

"You want a demonstration of what I've learned, bring it."

Jack grins at her, amused and proud. "When you're really ready, little girl, we can go a round or two. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than for you to put me on my back." He pauses, seeing all the eyes in the room on him. "I would like to restate those intentions sounding more like a wise mentor and less like a dirty old man now, please."

Riley laughs. "You're lucky you're pretty."

Jack nods seriously. "I am very pretty." He claps a hand on Mac's shoulder and directs him out of the room. "Now, if there was nothing else, I believe we're on leave. Sayonara, suckers!"

They spend the next couple of days doing nothing in particular: going to the movies, napping in the late afternoon after a couple too many of Jack's mai tais, mini golf, a memorable evening of kamikaze karaoke, which Mac hadn't even been aware was a thing but Jack took very, very seriously.

They're together basically all the time, an unspoken agreement. 

They still don't talk about it.

Jack gets out the Shelby and they go for a long drive. They only break down once, but Mac pops the hood and has them back on the road in a few minutes. 

"It's a temporary fix but it'll last till I can get her back in the garage."

"You were good to my baby?"

Mac smiles out the window as Jack pulls back into traffic. "Like she was my very own."

"You wish. Was he good to you, baby?" Jack pets the dash, then gestures at Mac's chest. "She messed up your shirt."

Mac glances down. "Damn it. That's not coming out. I liked this shirt."

"Makes you look like a hipster lumberjack."

"Thanks," Mac says, giving a little nod.

"Upside," Jack says, opening her up and overtaking an SUV. "Since we're going to my place, now I get to pick you out something to wear."

Mac sighs, questioning his choice in friends, and leans back into the headrest, enjoying the ride.

They get back to Jack's around five, and there is much puttering around in the garage and tinkering with spark plugs and Jack fretting over the car before they make it inside. 

Jack goes straight to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. "Upstairs, closet in the bedroom. It's blue and black, long sleeves, way over on the right hand side."

"You don't need to give me your cast-offs, you know. Especially not if I'm going to look like I'm on a bowling team."

Jack tosses down the tea towel he was using to dry his hands and acts affronted. "At least go try it on. Do you good to try something different."

"My fashion sense is, like, identical to yours."

"Oh, please, you wish. It's a little too big in the shoulders for me. I've been meaning to give it to you for a while. Just go try it, would ya? I'll get us some food."

Mac obediently goes upstairs. Jack's wardrobe is bursting at the seams; the door doesn't even close properly. Mac tries to unhook a hanger that's tangled up in other hangers, and knocks down a shoebox. Half its contents scatter out on the floor. There are old concert tickets, a gold ring, a couple of envelopes with Jack's name written on them in flowery script, a ribbon, a couple of bullets and a few other odds and ends, but it's the familiar little metal sculptures, dozens of them spilled out over the carpet that make Mac pause.

He puts almost everything back in the box back and walks slowly back down through the apartment.

Jack is in the kitchen, a takeout menu in each hand. "Thai or sushi? Loves me some sushi, but this new Thai place will make you weep like a little boy it's so good." He looks up. "What? Shirt no good?"

Mac walks right up to him, gets his hands on Jack's face and kisses him full on the mouth. He backs off a little to gauge Jack's reaction.

Jack stares at him, the menus still in his hands. "Shirt was really, really good?" he says, and swallows, his eyes wide and shocked.

Mac holds up a paperclip bent into the shape of a broken heart between two fingers. He watches with interest as Jack turns red from his forehead all the way down his throat. He flaps the menus. "What, a guy can't collect things that don't mean anything at all? And that box was _private_."

Mac takes the menus out of his hands and sets them on the counter. "I want to try this," he says, low. "Can we just try?" He steps in close and Jack inhales sharply, his hands gripping the counter behind him.

"Did you even try the shirt?"

"I couldn't find it and don't change the subject."

"We'll to live to regret it."

Mac shakes his head. "Only thing I'm gonna regret is if I don't. You're in my head, man. It's getting loud in there."

"Iron Maiden?"

"Salt-n-Pepa."

"Dude," Jack says, and this time he goes with it when Mac kisses him.

They kiss for a long time, getting the feel of one another. Things get a little wet and dirty, bodies moving in tandem, hands everywhere. When they draw back they're both flushed and out of breath.

"You're good at that," Mac says.

"Don't sound so surprised, junior."

"No, I mean, I figured you would be but I never really thought about it before, like in detail, about what it would actually be like."

Jack smiles, all cat that got the canary. "I bet you will now."

Mac nods, a little dazed, a lot turned on. "I bet I will."

"You know," Jack says, in close and personal. "You have the most spectacular make-out hair I've ever seen."

"This is nothing. You should see it after sex."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "Sounds like a challenge, Mac."

"Unless you want to take things slow," he says, not sure if he's teasing or not. This is good, right here, it's really, really good, but the thought of more is making him ache. Jack tugs him in so they're flush against each other. Mac's gut feels hollowed out. His gums are tingling. 

"We can take it slow." Jack's voice is low and rough and Mac's never heard it quite like that before. It does crazy things to his insides. "We can take all afternoon over it if you want."

Mac's ability to come up with witty comebacks has leaked out his ears and it's all he can do to nod. 

Naturally, this is when Mac's phone rings. Then Jack's phone rings.

"Work," Jack says with a groan. "Are we picking up?"

Mac thinks about saying no for a long moment, but he knows they are.

"Figures," Jack says, already fishing out his phone.

Mac takes a step back and tries to think professional thoughts. 

"Yo," Jack says. "Yeah. He's right here. Hold on." He holds his phone between them. "You're on speaker."

"Hey, Mac."

"Riley. What's up?"

"Are you sitting down?"

"No."

"Well, hold on to something. Patricia wants to send you to prison."

"Oh," Mac says. "Uh. Okay? Why exactly?"

"Get your asses into the office and you'll find out."

"You sound a little worked up."

"You're going into a supermax with no way of contacting us, no tools, no one even knowing you're there undercover. Colour me worked up."

Jack snorts. "Yeah, that's not happening."

"Don't sweat it, Bucky. She wants you go to in as backup."

"Oh," Jack says. "Well, in that case, okay."

A fierce burst of gratitude and affection hits Mac in the chest.

"What happened to our two weeks off?" Jack complains.

"You got four days," Patricia says in the background. "I told you you were on call."

Mac sighs. "We're on our way."

 

\---

 

On day three of Mac's incarceration there is a riot that is absolutely nothing to do with either Mac or Jack or El Noche. Instead, it's something to do with rival gangs and the lack of cigarettes and the scratchy bedding that some of the inmates have been sleeping on for years but simply aren't willing to accept for a moment longer.

Mac bundles Jack into a supply closet, using Jack's keys to get them in there, and barricades the door shut with a mop handle and two bales of industrial paper towels wedged under the door handle. Jack chuckles at his overkill but Mac wants to take zero chances. Right now, Jack is going to be in way more danger than Mac ever was inside these walls until the riot is shut down.

Wooden shelves dig into his back and there is a severe lack of wriggle room but Mac will happily stay put until he knows it's safe for them to show their faces outside.

"I should be out there."

Mac draws back, wanting to give Jack the full force of his complete disagreement, and bangs his head on a shelf behind him. Jack, to his credit, doesn't laugh. He rubs the back of Mac's head almost unconsciously, still frowning at the door.

"I'm supposed to... I dunno, corral the cons or something?"

"Uh uh. You're a minimum wage rent-a-guard, remember? You can tell them you got knocked out and thrown in a cell." Jack's fingers feel really good on his scalp and the back of his neck and he leans into it. It's only been three days, but he's been tense as hell for every second of them, and the gentle pressure feels amazing.

"Doesn't this go against your do-gooding nature? Letting them take care of their own messes?"

"This is nothing to do with us, and if something happens and I end up stuck in solitary or the infirmary, we're screwed. E-block is locked off and under control. El Noche had a visit so he'll be on lockdown with them. No way for us to get there while there's a full scale riot going on."

"This is all sounding a lot like you want to stay locked in this closet with me."

Mac didn't think he was in a mental headspace for giant stupid smiles, but he's taken by surprise. He leans into Jack, their cheeks brushing. "I can think of worse ways to pass the time."

"Are you flirting with me, convict?" 

Mac presses a kiss to his jaw. "I don't have to answer that in character, do I?"

"Please don't."

Mac smiles into their next kiss. He pops the button on Jack's pants. Jack inhales sharply and his hips buck up against Mac. Mac thinks, yes, yes, yes, but Jack holds Mac by the wrist and gentles their kiss.

"What's wrong?"

Jack ducks his head. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but this isn't really what I had in mind for our first time. I was thinking less prison riot and bleach smell. Maybe, y'know, a bed. Call me crazy."

Mac's chest swells with fondness. "Are you getting mooshy on me?"

Jack looks up. He grabs Mac's ass and squeezes, hauling him in so they're pressed tightly together. "We're not going to fuck in here," he says, and his voice is rougher, serious. "But I do kinda want to get my hands in your pants."

Mac gasps, a little dizzy, his fingers tingling. "It's the jumpsuit, isn't it?"

Jack hums, his mouth on Mac's throat. "Orange is the new black." He bites down on the tendon and Mac shudders into it. "Maybe when you get out I'll get you some orange t-shirts. They'd really bring out your eyes."

"I love how you think the big dumb act is still working on me."

"Hey, my stupid sticks to your stupid and multiplies. Fact of life."

"Good to know." 

Jack leans on him, breathing him in. "I haven't been able to get close to you in days. I missed you."

"I've been right there."

"It's not the same and you know it."

"I know it," Mac says, stroking his fingertips over the buzzed hair at the back of Jack's head. "I know it."

Outside, the alarm cuts off. There's a shout, something banging, then it's near quiet. They don't move, listening for a long time.

"We should go. You have to check in before they come looking for you."

Jack nods his agreement but grabs Mac's wrist when he reaches for the door.  
His voice is quiet when he says, "Just so you know, I might be getting a little mooshy on you."

Mac kisses him, sweet and hard and a little desperate, and touches their foreheads together. In this cramped little room, in the middle of hell, danger all around, he's at peace, near floating.

 

\---

 

After El Noche makes him choke down half a canister of nitrogen, Mac has a killer headache and wants to sleep for a week. He gets checked over by the medics and dozes most of the long ride home. He wakes up outside Jack's apartment building and blinks up at it, confused.

"No debrief?"

"Are you crazy?" Jack waves a hand. "Rhetorical question. C'mon, let's get you upstairs."

He lets Jack lead him up through the building and into his apartment. "I'm just gonna..." He gestures vaguely, not really sure exactly what's he's gonna as his head still isn't working quite right, but coffee sounds good, and finally being able to relax and not have watch his back every second sounds even better. 

Jack takes the decision out of his hands and pushes him towards the bathroom. 

"Jack, man, I'm not really..."

Jack just shakes his head. "Just let me wash the big house off of you, huh?"

That actually sounds like a really good idea. Jack runs a hot bath and the bathroom quickly fills with steam. Between them, they strip Mac of his jumpsuit. Jack kicks it into the corner.

Stepping into the tub is heaven. Mac zones out, dozes for a while, lets the heat from the water sink into his bones. Jack brings him a steaming mug and Mac raises an eyebrow in question.

"Tea with honey," Jack says. "And shut up, no you can't have coffee. Just drink it and feel better."

Mac smiles and does as he's told. When the water starts to cool, he drags himself upright, towels off, and puts on the jeans, t-shirt (blessedly white) and socks Jack left out for him.

They send out for pizza and Jack has an opened bottle of red waiting that he sniffs and holds up to the light like it's a science experiment, then sips and looks impressed.

"What do you wanna...?"

"Movie," Jack says, and gestures to the couch. "There might be cuddling, so brace yourself."

"It's weird."

"Do tell."

"Like, I'm..." He looks Jack up and down and gets that fond-exasperated-fiercely-loyal-grateful kick that he always gets from looking at Jack, but now there's heat and want simmering in the background, which, okay, has definitely been there for a while, but it's still new and strange. "I don't know how to be with you now."

Jack smiles, altogether too pleased with himself and too amused at Mac's expense. "I don't need the moves, Mac. Just don't go funny on me, that's all. You're the one supposed to be holding it together for us, remember?"

"Okay," Mac says. "Okay, I can do that. I got this."

"Yeah, you do," Jack says. "Now sit." 

They sit side by side, and it's kind of awkward and not really enough, so Mac shifts and tugs and rearranges until he's lying back on the cushions with Jack between his legs lying on his chest, and they reach optimal body to cushion ratio and everything is good and close and just how it's supposed to be. 

 

\---

 

The room clears of techs when Jack asks them for a moment. Patricia and Riley file out too, sending Mac twin looks of concern but trusting them to have their guy moment and come out the other side, agreement reached, ready to do their jobs. Bozer looks a little more closely, seeing more than everyone gives him credit for, as usual, but he's still pissed at all of them, so he leaves them to it.

The screens are still showing numerous pictures of S-218, and Mac wants to throw something at them, anything to get rid of that face with the blank reptilian look in his eyes. Anger is fizzing just under the surface. He wants to get out there, to do his job. The last thing he wants is a lecture about how he has to stay put, so he goes on the offensive.

"I can't believe you're actually about to side with her."

Jack never does that. He has Mac's back. They're a package deal. That's how they work. It's how they've _always_ worked.

"No," Jack says. "Listen to me for a second. Now, listen. I've been watching your back for years, for _years_. Tangled with some real badasses that were trying to kill you, but this guy is different. He's really good. Beyond badass. Maybe better than me. So I'm just going to have to leave you behind on this one, okay?"

"Yeah, if he's that good I need to be with you, not stuck in--"

"Hey! I'm not going to argue with you about this, all right? I cannot do my thing if I'm worried about losing you every minute. The last thing I need is your death on my conscience. That'd kill me. Don't do that to me."

The hitch in Jack's voice brings Mac up short.

"You love me," he says, the words just falling out of him.

Jack was clearly expecting a different reaction but he recovers quickly and rolls his eyes. "Duh."

"No, I mean you _love_ me."

Jack's cheeks are pink but his expression doesn't change. "I already said duh. You want a ring or something?"

"Maybe. Something tasteful. White gold." It's supposed to be light, a joke, but Mac's kind of shell-shocked because Jack _loves_ him, so it falls flat.

"I'll get you whatever you want if you just stay here and let me do my job. Sometimes the best way to watch your back is to have your back somewhere else entirely. You understand?"

"I understand. And I love that you think that this is the solution. But it's dumb. You know we work better together."

"Not this time, Mac."

"Every time, Jack. _Every_ time. You split us up and..." He shakes his head. 

Jack gives him a long hard look, his jaw locked. "You go kaboom. I go kaboom."

"Yeah," Mac says, because _yeah_.

There's another long pause. "Okay," Jack says, clearly not happy. "But if you die I'm going to be _really_ pissed at you."

"Nobody's dying. You and me, we've got unfinished business."

Jack tilts his head. "Is this a sex thing? Are you talking about sex right now? Because that's cheating."

Mac smiles. "Let's go get this guy first and we'll revisit the subject, okay? I'll hold back and watch from the side-lines if it makes you happy. I'll be _your_ backup this time."

"You better get through this without a scratch, is all I'm saying."

"Don't worry," Mac says, reaching for him. "We got this."


End file.
